Dragons Never Lose
by throwaawy
Summary: Aincrad is definitely a place where only the strongest can survive. But what happens when a parahuman whose strength is only available IRL and not online joins this Death Game ?


He stood alone, as he had for so many years since _that day_.

He didn't care where he was. Nor did he care about the reasons for this confrontation. All that mattered was that he _was _here—and more importantly, that he had an opponent. There was battle to be had.

His weapon lay discarded at his feet. He had been provided with a simple blade of iron as well as a flimsy metal that claimed itself to be some form of armour—since when had _he_ ever required something like that? He needed no such crutches to achieve his goals; his body was the only weapon… his skin the only armour he would ever need. He was a man—no, he was more than a man. He was a beast; he was a _dragon_. He needed nothing but the thrill of the fight.

And this… this _creature_ dared to stand before him in challenge.

He roared out his defiance and charged the impressively-sized monster; his arms were stretched out to either side of him as he approached, ready to rip and tear into it like he had to so many of his previous targets.

…

"Hey, uh… is that guy really trying to take on a «Wild Boar-Pig» barehanded?"

"Seriously? Not even a—oh wow, he really did ditch his starter equipment."

"Um… should we help?"

"Hell no, I wanna see how he does."

"But what about—?"

"He heard the announcement the same as anyone else. I've already seen some people throwing themselves off the city walls. Maybe he just _really_ wants his blaze of glory."

…

The small-time storekeeper of «GeimuShyoppu» stood slack-jawed at the television, unmindful of the fact that he'd been sweeping the same spot on the floor for the last hour. His mind buzzed with unfortunate implications and guilt at what he had just been party to. If what the newscaster was reporting was true, he may have just been indirectly responsible for tens, if not _hundreds_ of lives lost to the world. All because of a few kilograms of fancy hardware that he had innocently sold to the local gamers in his neighborhood.

So completely lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice the flickering of the store's lighting as something nearby drew heavily on the city's power grid for a brief, fatal moment. He somehow missed the roar and sudden air pressure as the windows of a nearby apartment's top floor exploded and cast flames and broken glass across the street.

He was still engrossed in his sweeping and the television newscast and _completely _missed the sudden presence of a vaguely draconic-looking figure trudging irritably into his store, brushing at the remains of a vaguely helmet-like mass of plastics and electronics that seemed to have melted partway into its skin. Nor did he notice the tall being marching over towards the counter and simply reaching over his head to grab at the nearest box containing the latest in MMORPG hardware to come into vogue.

So consumed by his inner guilt, the shopkeeper never heard the irritated grumble the dragon-thing made as it ripped into the packaging, dropped the newly revealed NerveGear back over its scaly head, and marched back towards the burning apartment, heedless of the hordes of screaming people attempting to flee through the various exits.

…

The pig was a worthy opponent , he would grant it that much. And the strange lightning attack it had shocked him with as he suffered his temporary setback was more than just a little annoying. But «Player» KENTA (spelled out all in western characters) had its measure now.

He had never before lost a straight-up fight—one without feeble feints or treacherous trickery. He would not begin to do so now.

His vocal chords were just slightly on the wrong side of human, but fortunately the software had been designed for a very wide range of voice inputs and managed to do the job.

"_Link Start,"_ he growled.

…

"Uh… does anyone else see that?"

"What?"

"I could have sworn that one of the lines on the Monument just… uncrossed itself."

"…What."

"Like… a dead player just… came back to life."

"…"

"I'm serious! I can't remember which one it was, but a name just became _unmarked!_"

"Have… you somehow leveled up your «Cooking Skill» in the last thirty minutes to un-heard of heights? Because whatever you're smoking, I want some."

…

* * *

.

**Dragons Never Lose**  
_(Worm/SAO)_

.

* * *

He knew irritation. No, he knew _fury_. Because in the time it had taken to for him to return to the battle after being mysteriously separated away from his foe, it was only to find that some poacher had _stolen his prey_ from him.

_No matter_, he mused. Despite the frailty of this «Player Avatar» he would succeed. _After all_, he thought to himself, glancing around the sparsely populated «Newbie Training Grounds». _There are plenty more where that one came from._

…

"I can't get in," the voice was bewildered, even shocked.

The armoured man in powered-armour sitting before the screen frowned, crossing his armoured arms over his armoured chestplates. "That's impossible," he stated confidently. "No network should be beyond your capabilities."

"Nevertheless," the voice replied, "Here we are. Aside from the obvious Tinker capabilities we're seeing here, I would postulate that our culprit possesses an above-average Thinker rating in order to be able to pull this off. Possibly higher if he was able to entrap this many individuals. If the Birdcage was still active, I would recommend immediate incarceration once we are able to locate his whereabouts."

"Noted," the armoured man said shortly. He tilted his head slightly with a faint electronic whirr. "By the way, have you had a chance to look up the affected player list?"

"…No, why?"

…

"He's back."

"Who?"

"The guy who keeps fighting in the «Unarmed» status."

"What? I thought he was dead!"

"That's what I thought too, but look. He's still taking on the «Wild Boar-Pigs». He's even leveled up!"

"…That's some dedication right there."

…

"Lung."

"Yes."

"Playing _video games._"

"Well, it's more like a social-network of the online variety with a shared goal between the various users to unite them and—"

"Yes, yes—but… _Lung?_"

"Believe me, I'm having just as hard a time as you trying to wrap my head around this."

…

Kenta frowned at the short-statured figure that had interposed itself between him and the gates of the «Starting City».

"Greetings!" a young-sounding, chipper voice cheerfully rang out.

"What," he grumbled in reply. "Do. You. Want?"

The figure _tsked_ and gazed unflinchingly at him, their eyes just barely visible beneath a mop of dirty-blonde hair and the shadowed cowl covering their head. "Tis but a small quest to satisfy this one's curiousity. Word around the street is that you're unkillable. As rumour would have it, you seem to have picked fights with all sorts of mobs completely out of your league—especially without _any_ equipment whatsoever—and died to them."

"I have not yet started a fight I was unable to finish," Kenta growled in reply.

"Aye, and that is where the curiousity comes into play. Nearly every supposed witness has stated that you vanish at the end of your encounters. They watched as you became one with the crystal ether. I must point out you've traumatised nearly everyone who has witnessed your supposed demise. And yet… here you stand." The cloaked figure leaned forward eagerly with a catty grin. "What have you to say about that?"

Kenta frowned, then leaned forward to peer more closely at the figure. "…Tattletale?" he muttered thoughtfully.

"Er…I—what? I'd _never_—I'll have you know, good sir, that any secrets you deign to reveal shall remain in my safe personal keeping! I am no _blabbermouth!_"

He shook his head. "Nevermind." Without any further words, he brushed past the figure and continued on to the fields.

The cloaked figure gave one last withering stare at the retreating back before it vanished deeper into the city. "…unless a buyer meets the right price," came the irritated, belated reply.

…

"So, let me get this straight," the blonde pinched her nose in frustration. "Lung _somehow _got himself involved in this whole mess Japan's having. At the same time, he's been _repeatedly_ booted from the game and to safety, but he keeps going back _in?!_"

"That's what it seems like," the knight before her replied. He used his massive blade to indicate the heat-resistant box of spare NerveGears piled beside the hospital bed. Beside the hospital bed containing the near-comatose figure lying on it.

The hospital bed that was otherwise completely isolated at the centre of a fire-proofed vault, with the monitoring devices and other assorted medical equipment safely contained _elsewhere._

"We're still not quite sure what's going on in there. He's never awake long enough to answer our questions."

Almost on cue, the bed creaked audibly as the man's skin split and a pair of wings spilled out from beneath his back. Fire flared from his limbs and blasted across the triple-paned glass separating the room from the two outside. Shortly afterwards, there was a high-pitched electronic whine, followed by a sharp _crack_ and the dragon-man irritably rose into a sitting position, rubbing at his head as the flames died down.

The knight grabbed at a microphone. "Lung!" he demanded through the intercom. "We need to talk to you!"

Ignoring the shattered remains of the NerveGear falling across his body, the annoyed-looking parahuman simply made a rude gesture and leaned over the bed to grab at the heat-treated footlocker. After a few moments he straightened up, retrieving another helmet and jamming it over his head.

A series of guttural sounds and rumbles emerged from the room's speakers, but fortunately the blonde had the ear to translate.

_ "Still questing,"_ came the reply. _"Go away."_

…

"After one month, one _very_ long month, we are ready!" the blue-haired man called out triumphantly. "No, we are _more_ than ready! These top players gathered here today will prove that this «Death Game» can be overcome and that we—the players—can succeed through our own efforts!"

There was a large roar as the gathered crowd cheered, only for groups of players to falter slightly as a tall man shouldered his way through them on his way to the middle of the courtyard.

Kenta surveyed the gathered members of the first «First Floor Boss Raid Group» and then turned his attention to their leader. "I wish to fight," he spoke evenly into the sudden silence.

The knight blinked his eyes and tapped at the air, bringing up his UI to gather information on the newcomer. "Erm," he demurred. "That is to say… you're, ah, only level five."

"I wish to fight," the tall man repeated.

"...And you have no equipment whatsoever. Well! While I have nothing but appreciation and respect your zeal… for your own safety I cannot accept anyone below «Level Eight» in this endeavor."

Kenta's fists tightened and his eyes glittered dangerously. "I. _Will._ Fight."

…

"He would have survived!" a man screamed in frustration. "If it weren't for you—if only it weren't for you Beta-testers! You Cheaters! You… «Beaters»!"

The crowd, torn between exhilaration at their victory and horror at their loss, could do nothing else but stare as one of their number jabbed an accusing finger at the lone figure before them.

"«Beater», huh?" the target of the man's ire repeated, his mouth twisting cruelly. He half-turned as he manipulated his inventory menu and a large, black coat materialised over his shoulders. Shifting his shoulders to allow it to settle, he grinned madly. "I like it! I'll gladly accept this title… along with this «Last Attack Bonus»!"

The «Black Swordsman» turned away with a huff. "That's right, I'm a Beater," he reiterated. "So don't you be confusing me with those other types of beta-testing noobs." He made as if to stalk away, only to be brought up short as a figure seemed to materialise from the gloom in front of him with a growl. "What's _your _problem?" he stammered, breaking character for a brief moment. It was doubtful anyone other than the chestnut-haired girl in the main group had noticed his slip.

The tall, imposing figure ignored his question, choosing instead to simply stare down at him. "You defeated this… this «Floor Boss»?" Kenta growled after moment of awkward silence.

"W-were you not paying attention?" the swordsman countered. "I _used_ these people to claim the win for myself. Get it? I'm the lowest of the low, I lie and I cheat my way to victory."

Kenta shifted his shoulders, cracking the loose bones in his neck. "It sounds to me as if you are dissatisfied with your «Victory». I can help you with that."

The youth narrowed his eyes. "How?"

Sharp teeth were bared. An unholy fire burned from the other man's eyes. "Fight _me._"

…

Another zap, another muffled curse.

"_RAARRGWWWLLL!"_

Chevalier cleared his ears with a deft swipe of his pinky. "What did he say?"

Tattletale blinked her eyes. "Uh, something about killing a «Black Swordsman» the next time he met him."

**ooo**

* * *

_**(a/n)—**so i've been on a bit of a fanfic binge and this sort of got caught in my head. i don't really have a plot, just some random hijinks so this'll just be a one-shot, but i thought it'd be amusing. lung almost can't die once a fight starts for him, so what happens if that fight is repeatedly interrupted for him? his body changes but SAO doesn't exactly have the capabilities to duplicate his powerset…  
_

_he's probably flanderized quite a bit here, but i don't really care because this was for the lulz anyhow._

_let me know what you think!_


End file.
